A Broken Doll
by SassyMuse
Summary: Light comes home to find that someone has discovered his Death Note. No longer a one-shot.
1. Chapter 1

Title: A Broken Doll

Summary: Light comes home to find that someone has discovered his Death Note.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Death Note franchise, and no money was made in writing this.

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As he looked upon the gun he held in his bloodied hand he pondered on the choice to end his life this way, how barbaric. Such a waste they would say. They being the ignorant fools who couldn't comprehend such a monster could lurk underneath his handsome façade. That very same monster, ready and willing; to stand in as judge, jury and executioner; to cut out and discard the rotting flesh from the body of society.

They won't understand why he did it, not until they find the body. Cold, limp corpse with blood pooled, stained on his bedroom floor. He had to do something you see, she had found it. She is... was always much too curious for her own good, and clever, though it didn't shine as bright as it should have, next to her brother's brilliance. He could see engraved in his mind the look of disgust and betrayal warring in her eyes along with her tears in the moment she realised all, eyes flitting from him to the Death Note held open in her trembling hands.

He still does not know what happened next, the old clichéd excuse of it all happening too fast slivers to mind. He knows he made to snatch it away from her, but she held on, they struggled, her grief weakening her, she stumbled...

No, he struck her; self-righteous fury of a god being denied empowered him, red mark in livid contrast against the surrounding pale skin, head whipped to the side by the force of the blow. She fell; he can recall a horrible crunching sound as her skull impacted against the corner of the desk, and the thud of her body against the ground...

He leaned down, plucked the Death Note from the floor, ignoring her motionless form, and checked to make sure it was undamaged.

As he stood there, standing over her, precious Death Note clutched in one hand and panting with excursion from the frenzied exchange, he heard the creature chuckling in the corner of the room. He recollects on how the Shinigami thought it was funny that he had just killed her and by brute force no less, how barbaric... humans really are interesting.

Ignoring the death god as usual, his eyes widened when he saw the blood, and understood...

He screamed her name, shook her, and raged. Demanded why she was so stubborn, like they were still children, when she would seize his favourite toy for her own, pleaded and cried that if she had just handed it over it wouldn't have happened. All the while, the death god quivered with hideous laughter.

As he clutched her tightly in his arms, rocking, whilst unfamiliar tears streaked down his anguished face, he realised that this was what death was: ugly, brutal and soul destroying; one cannot build paradise on death.

He left her there, a broken doll thrown away, body discarded on the bedroom floor...

As he calmly placed the gun against his right temple, he thought of the first time he ever saw his little sister; so small and fragile, cocooned in a pink blanket. When she was placed gently in his arms supported by his father, he remembered the sudden overwhelming feeling of protectiveness and warmth for this precious being he held. From that moment, he promised to protect her and love her always. Thinking of that last promise, he pulled the trigger.

The damning evidence lay abandoned, forgotten like a dead spider, underneath his bed, until by chance it was discovered, and hidden. Then unthinkingly, foolishly used, and crazed with grief, he followed in his son's blood-soaked footsteps.

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Author's Note: As this is my first fic, any feedback will be much appreciated, be it that you thought it was just okay, or you liked a particular part. Constructive criticism is also very welcome indeed, so please review, thank you.


	2. Chapter 2

Title: A Broken Doll

Summary: His parents try to cope with the consequences of what took place.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Death Note franchise and no money was made in writing this.

This chapter is in Sachiko's POV

Author's Note: Continuation of this story was inspired by my first ever review, it goes to show writing feedback does pay dividends, so this chapter is dedicated to lnicol1990.

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She sometimes sits alone in the bedroom and cries.

Meal times are the hardest; she makes too much food and sets the table for four. So she doesn't cook anymore, when they can remember to eat, they order take out instead.

She knows she shouldn't but she can't stop thinking about their deaths. At night, she dreams about what must have happened, becomes an unwilling witness, a spectre unable to change the course of events no matter how much she screams...

The window of the bedroom was smashed in, glass cascading down, like a deadly glittering waterfall. Her daughter having heard the sound of crashing from her brother's room went to investigate, curious and foolish girl, disturbed the robber in the process.

When her eldest child arrived home, the burglar was searching through her husband's study, having already taken the prodigy's computer and stolen her jewellery.

Her son found his sister lying on his bedroom floor and desperately tried to save her but it was too late.

Realising the burglar may still be in the house, he went to the study, to obtain the gun his father insisted on keeping in case of intruders. However, the murderer was lying in wait, alerted to sound of the front door closing. Thus, when her boy walked into the room, floorboards creaking, the robber shot him, in the head, at point-blank range, blood spraying across the room.

The nightmares never stop; she has given up, silently cries, tears rolling down her face, even in her sleep.

It rained at their funeral. She couldn't cry, couldn't believe it was actually happening, so the heavens cried for her, and cold from the rain, became as numb on the outside as she was on the inside, body on auto-pilot.

Her beautiful little girl looked like a porcelain doll, perfect and whole. She lay as if asleep; her hair covering the bruise where her killer struck her, hands clasping flowers, lying in the open coffin. The other casket remained closed.

Her babies' killer was caught. He denied it, said they were already dead when he got there. No one believed him of course, as what are the chances of that? The police found the gun and the stolen goods in his possession, it was an open and shut case.

She wanted to ask him whether the stolen items were worth the life of her precious children. She didn't, it wouldn't have made any difference, not as if it would bring them back. They were invited to his execution, she didn't attend but her husband did.

She doesn't want to cry anymore, watch while the rest of her world falls apart. She wonders why she carries on living; her husband no longer speaks to her or notices that she exists. Maybe she doesn't and this is just a terrible hallucination that she'll snap out of, how she wishes that were so.

He's running himself into the ground, thrown himself into work, abandoned all else. However, some days she gets phone calls from the police station, saying he hasn't been in. She doesn't know where he goes.

She tries to help him grieve, but she is swimming in a sea of grey, unconnected, distanced from the world.

He stays up all night; first watching the news, writing about any new criminals in that notebook of his, and then scouring the internet and police case files searching for more.

She gazes down at her black coffee, milk gone off long ago and takes a sip; it's gone cold. She places the mug back on the table and looks in disinterest around the room.

He's fallen asleep on the sofa again, the light from the TV flickering across his gaunt lined face, still tense in sleep, hair gone completely grey.

As she pulls a blanket over his slightly snoring form, she notices a book on the floor. While she leans down to get a better look she realises it's his notebook. It must have fallen to the floor when he fell asleep. She has never seen it up close before; he always hid it away, said he didn't want her to get her involved.

She picked it up off the ground and straightening up, out of the corner of her eye, something above, snapped her head back...

And saw the terrifyingly horrible grotesque creature, creeping like a spider across the ceiling, head twisting around the wrong way, disfigured face now inches away from her own, adrenaline shocking through her, nerves rapidly fired, tingles shot up and down her spine-

"Boo!"

She screamed, stumbled back and fell, head smacking against the floor, body out cold.

...She blinked her eyes open, and stared at the coffee mug, her neck stiff from sleeping slumped over the table.

She slowly sat up; body creaking like an old crone. Dust reflected the streaked sunlight as she glanced at the ceiling and unoccupied sofa.

Leaning forward, she rested her elbows on the table; palms hugged her temples while fingernails raked her scalp, splitting the skin.

_Is all that we see or seem but a dream within a dream?_

Blood slowly dribbled down her forehead and dropped onto the table, mixing with her falling tears.

Careful to remain unseen, the creature lurked behind the corner, shoulder shaking, biting a clawed hand, to prevent gruesome giggles spewing forth from its sharp sneering mouth.

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Author's Note: I'm currently writing ideas down for the next chapter, but bear with me it probably will take some time for the next update. Oh and the quote is Edgar Allan Poe's.

**Please review with your thoughts and comments as they really do help me to write, thank you. **


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